“He’s a good one, Kinley. I know you two had your differences when you were kids, but you’re grown up now.”
Differences hardly described it. She’d resented him for years, replaying that kiss for what it was, moments stolen from her mom in those final hours. Of course, she was mature enough to see that night for what it actually was. And none of it was his fault. The least she owed him was an apology, and she’d find the words before she got back on a plane. “Not going to happen.”
Fiona lifted her hand in surrender as she stood, forcing Pickles to move from her lap and into Kinley’s. “I better grab my jacket. Bev will be here any minute.”
Kinley welcomed the cat’s comforting purrs, even if it required nonstop head scratches. She kissed between his ears, all out of words for the moment.
“If I had any theories on who your dad is,” Fiona called from the hall, “I’d tell you. I promise I would. Told your mom you deserved to know the truth, no matter what it was. But your mom was too fond of her secrets. I didn’t even know she was seeing someone until she told me she was pregnant. She wasthatgood at hiding things from me when she wanted to be.”
Kinley stared straight ahead, convincing herself that she could accept not knowing who her father was for the rest of her life. Maybe even be okay with it. Her gaze landed on the broken rungs of the loft ladder. “Ryder’s stopping by tomorrow to fix the ladder,” she called out to Fiona, ready to move on to a different topic.
Fiona shrugged into a jacket almost as long as her skirt, having little issue on her own. “Good thing I made a pie, then, isn’t it?”
A horn honked out front, causing Pickles to hiss and leap off Kinley’s lap. He skittered down the hallway and disappeared into a bedroom.
Fiona stopped before opening the screen door. “There’s a box of your mother’s things up in the loft. We can get to it after Ryder fixes that ladder. Just . . . don’t expect much. Probably nothing in there that’ll give you the answers you want. She didn’t keep a diary or anything that easy, Nancy Drew.” Fiona stepped out onto the porch and stopped. “Don’t go trying to get it now. I suspect broken bones won’t expedite your military plans.”
* * *
Thrumming her fingers against the back of the sofa, Kinley considered her options. She’d already called the mayor, determined to face judgment over the sign debacle, but he was out all morning. Too early to bring Ava lunch, Kinley reached out to Ryder instead. Better to go fishing than face the temptation to monkey climb into the loft for a box that likely held nothing of significance.
Kinley followed Ryder’s text directions, navigating a tree-covered dirt road that weaved its way around several properties of varying sizes. She recognized his driveway on Choke Cherry Lane by the mailbox; a bear carved from wood held it on his shoulders.
A single-story log cabin with a covered porch and green metal roof emerged through the trees. Ryder’s massive truck sat in the driveway, no doubt too large to fit inside the single garage bay. She parked behind it.
His text promised he and Rowdy would be in the backyard.
Three strides from the car, Kinley realized she forgot her purse. She really was over carrying the dang thing, but she needed her license and credit card to buy the fishing license. Ryder promised to help her with that before they headed to the marina.
Snagging her purse with a less than elegant compliment, Kinley popped out of the car again and let out a startled scream. Ed stood hardly five feet away, staring straight at her. The air died in her lungs. No inhale. No exhale.
“You.”
There were so many things Kinley wanted to say to the elusive moose who left her high and dry at the crime scene, but his proximity reminded her what the beast was capable of should she make him feel threatened.
Ed extended his neck toward a leafy branch.
The car door wasn’t shut. Not all the way. But would it startle him if she yanked it wide and dove in? She didn’t think her aunt’s car deserved any more of a beating than she’d already given it.
Kinley pushed her back as far as it would go against the side of the Buick, clenching her purse straps so tightly her fingers turned white. “You know, no one believes me, Ed.”
He watched her closely, slapping frothy lips around a clump of leaves and stripping them off. He blinked once, just so she was quite sure he didn’t care, and chomped.
“The whole town thinks I was driving irresponsibly.” She relaxed enough to return the color to her fingers. “They think I took my anger out on the sign or something. It’s all over town. Why did you do it, Ed? The mayor hates me. Always has.”
Mid-chomp, Ed’s ears perked at a sound Kinley couldn’t make out. Ed shuffled backward, turning and vanishing into the tree line.
Kinley let out a heavy breath, allowing her body to slide against the car. She stole a few minutes to herself, expecting the energetic dog to round the cabin any second. Surely Rowdy had frightened away the moose. Though she didn’t hear the scuffle of energetic paws on the grass, Rowdy did let out her deep bark.
Heartrate slowed, she pushed back up to her feet. Dusting off her jeans, she followed the steppingstone path around the side of the house.
Ryder lounged with his back to her on a cushioned loveseat. Rowdy sat erect at his side, her body turned toward the Cheeto he held at the ready. The shepherd gave her a brief glance and a few quick tail thumps, but her attention immediately returned to her prize. “Good girl. Take it nice, now.” Rowdy leaned closer, delicately taking the snack from Ryder.
“I do hope you’re feeding her more than Cheetos,” Kinley playfully scolded, forcing her pulse to slow yet again. The sight of Ryder and this dog—Kinley would be smart to run away now beforefeelingscrept into the equation uninvited.
“Don’t let Rowdy fool you.” Ryder snagged another Cheeto from the bag and held it out, repeating the trick. “She had a generous helping of ground caribou last night, and she stole a couple sausage links this morning.”
Kinley stepped onto the deck and dropped into a swivel rocker with red-orange cushions across from the duo, a dark wicker and aluminum coffee table separating them. “Any luck on figuring out who Rowdy belongs to?” she asked.
